The Masked Stranger

~ANORA~

I ride aimlessly through the woods, putting as much distance as I can between myself and the Crimson Moon Pack. My heart feels as if it has been ripped into tiny pieces, with each beat repeating the image I cannot escape: Rorik and Lindis tangled together, his hands on her, his mouth claiming who was once my good friend. Their words loop endlessly in my mind.

Don’t you dare hurt my mate!

I sob louder, the sound lost to the roar of the wind. Eventually, I find myself back in front of the Moon Shadow packhouse, where the Grand Masked Feast is in full swing; music and laughter spill out into the night. I can’t explain why my furious ride leads me back here, but I crave the noise. I need the chaos of the ball to drown out the pain clawing inside my chest.

I sit upon my horse for a long time, hands gripping the reins until my palms ache, unable to decide whether to go in or ride straight into the nearest river. It feels as if a blunt knife is being driven into my chest over and over. My mind races with thoughts and memories: Rorik’s promises, Lindis’ smug little smirk, the way the whole pack will soon know I have been discarded. To stop from drowning in my own thoughts, I wipe my face, grab the black lace mask from the saddlebag, and climb down from the horse. I need the pain to stop. I need to breathe.

I tie the mask on quickly, hiding my swollen eyes and tear-streaked skin from prying gazes, take a deep breath and walk forward.

Inside, the grand ballroom is alive with masked Alphas, Lunas, Betas, and high-ranking wolves swirling under glittering chandeliers. The air smells of expensive oils, wine, and the faint musk of shifting excitement. I slip into a shadowed corner near the wine casks, snatch a goblet of wine from a passing servant, and nurse it while my eyes scan the crowd for any sign of Rorik.

“Luna?”

The deep voice makes me jump, nearly slopping wine down my dress. I spin to find Alan, Rorik’s Beta, standing there looking sharp in a fine doublet, his own mask dangling from one hand. Of course, he recognises me by scent alone.

“Hello, Alan,” I manage, forcing my voice steady even as my gaze darts past him, searching.

Alan follows my line of sight, then meets my eyes again. “Alpha Rorik isn’t coming. He sent Jeremy and me to represent the pack.”

I exhale in relief. I’m not ready to face that lying, treacherous face tonight—not even behind a mask.

Alan’s brows draw together. “I thought you went back early to surprise him for his name day. Luna Eloise mentioned you’d left when I arrived.”

I stare at him, wondering how much he knows. Betas are loyal to their Alphas; I wouldn’t put it past Rorik to have confided in him. Besides, half the pack has always looked down on me; wolfless, and physically weaker than most because I inherited my mother’s omega blood. They have questioned my fitness as Luna from the start.

“I never made it to the packhouse,” I say flatly, then tip the entire goblet back and swallow in one go. The liquid burns pleasantly down my throat.

Alan stays beside me for a while, making small talk, trying to keep me company as more guests flood in. But duty calls; soon, he is pulled away to greet arriving Alphas and Lunas. I remain glued to my corner, refusing every offer to dance and every attempt at conversation. I just keep accepting fresh goblets of wine, one after another, letting the alcohol blur the edges of the ache in my chest.

Tears slip out from beneath the mask. I am grateful for the lace hiding my face; no one can see how thoroughly I am falling apart. Several Alphas approach, offering smooth smiles and outstretched hands. I decline them all with polite murmurs, then reach for another drink.

The pain won’t leave. I need it gone.

I lose count of the goblets of wine I have consumed—five, six, seven, eight? The numbers blur together like everything else. All I want is to drown the memory of Rorik and Lindis, the cruel realisation that they have played me from the beginning. I have loved him so completely that I have handed him my birthright on a golden platter.

My late father, Alpha Marcus Myers, never truly approved of Rorik; he warned me in quiet, serious tones I ignored. On my eighteenth birthday, when I failed to shift, the bullying was merciless. But Rorik assured me that he would be by my side, no matter what.

He defended me through the trainings and lady lessons, stood by me when others sneered. I fought my father tooth and nail to marry him instead of some powerful Alpha who could merge packs. In the end, my father relented, crowned Rorik Alpha after his rites of passage, and I was content to stand at his side as Luna. It felt like the highest proof of my love.

Then my parents died in that brutal ambush the following year, and I clung even harder to Rorik. Now he has broken me. Lindis has been his true mate the whole time. He has looked me in the eyes and lied. Again and again. Did my father suspect? Is that why he hated the match?

“Traitors,” I hiss under my breath. “They fucking played me.”

The room suddenly feels too hot, too loud, too full of fake smiles. I need air. I need to rip the mask off and scream. I drain the last of my drink and lurch toward the grand staircase.

“Luna,” Alan calls out, intercepting me near the bannister. “You should come meet Alpha Cass—”

“Traitors,” I slur, swaying. “Bastards. I’m taking back everything. I’ll take my pack back!”

Alan frowns, reaching out to steady me. “Are you all right?”

I jerk away. “Let go of me! Liars!” A drunken giggle escapes me. “You lied, too. Don’t stand there pretending.”

“Luna, what are you talking about?” Confusion creases his face.

“Don’t touch or follow me,” I hiss. “Touch me again, and I’ll scream that you’ve assaulted me,” I growl, pointing a shaky finger at him.

Alan drops his hand and steps back, staring at me like I have lost my mind.

“I’m getting fresh air. Deal with it.” I snatch another goblet from a passing tray and climb the stairs on unsteady legs.

I don’t stop until I reach the parapet, surprised to find it empty. Cool night air rushes into my lungs as I walk forward. I down the wine in one long swallow, then stagger toward the merlons, staring up at the scatter of stars. The urge to scream claws at my throat.

“Why did you forsake me like this!” I shout into the darkness, fury aimed at the moon goddess herself. “You took everything!” I climb onto the low crenel, legs wobbling dangerously on the narrow ledge. “You took my parents, you took my wolf, and now you’ve taken him!”

Alcohol makes my limbs heavy and loose. I try to balance, arms windmilling, but gravity wins. My body tips forward, hands scrabbling at empty air. But I never make it to my death. Strong arms band around my waist from behind, yanking me back hard against a solid wall of chest. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs.

“Falling already?” a deep, rough voice rumbles against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver racing down my spine. “And here I thought I’d have to work harder to get you in my arms.”

I try to twist free, but my legs are like jelly. I turn in his grip, coming face-to-face with a tall masked stranger, his features half-hidden in shadow. He catches me again as I stumble, one hand sliding to the small of my back to haul me flush against him.

“Careful, little bird,” he rasps, voice low and edged with dark amusement. “The ground isn’t nearly as forgiving as my arms.”

My gaze drops to his mouth, full, sinful lips curved in what might be a smirk. Heat blooms low in my belly despite everything. A reckless, drunken giggle bubbles out of me. When those lips tilt higher, I stop thinking.

I lean in and crash my lips against his.